


Apologies

by mind_and_malady



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9.19, Alex Annie Alexis Ann, Dean is here for like five seconds, M/M, Protective!Gabriel, Sam is just tired, Spoilers for Season 9, Worried!Gabriel, but i guess you could read it there aren't any MAJOR spoilers, there's almost no couply stuff in this guys just FYI
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 12:21:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1510238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mind_and_malady/pseuds/mind_and_malady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the hunt, Sam is exhausted and Gabriel is worried. And slightly pissed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apologies

**Author's Note:**

> I think all of my writing is going to occur somewhere between 10 PM and 3 AM. All of it. Anything I ever write. It's hopeless, it really is.

Gabriel glares heavily at Sam, where he’s sprawled out on his stomach on the bed. Every line of him is riddled with exhaustion; even though Gabriel has healed his injuries, his body is still run down from fighting off the pain and Sam looks close to passing out.

“I thought you said it was a normal hunt!” Gabriel snaps, still poking skewers into Sam with his eyes.

“It was!” Sam protests, eyes opening to meet his stare. “A nest of vampires, that happened to have a human-lure who Jody _happened_ to have saved. We killed them, same as anything else, even if Dean was acting…” his nose crinkled up in a tired display of confusion and concern, and he flapped a hand around. “You know. Weird.”

Gabriel lets out a groan, and moves from his chair to the spot next to Sam on the bed. He reaches out, and carefully combs a wild strand of floppy hair back into place. “Normal hunts don’t end with you being drained of enough blood to nearly kill you,” Gabriel reminds him, and despite his gentle touch, his words are sharp.

“‘M sorry,” Sam mumbles, and _God_ , Gabriel is so tired of hearing that, not even necessarily directed at him. Sam apologizes for practically everything that’s ever gone wrong in his life, whether it’s verbally or through prayer or actions – he’s _always_ apologizing. Gabriel’s fairly sure that he’s still apologizing to Dean for _Ruby_ , despite the fact that Dean’s being a complete and total asshole to him. “I shouldn’t’ve –”

“Don’t,” Gabriel ends that train of thought swiftly. “You don’t need to apologize for anything, Sam. I’m just worried, that’s all. You know that.”

Sam lets out a long, heavy sigh, burdened with too much weight for his thirty-odd years. “You shouldn’t have to worry,” he murmurs. The deep, sad sound of his voice makes Gabriel’s heart ache. He tries to rein it in – he could swear he wasn’t always such a softie – but it's no use.

Gabriel lets out a frustrated laugh. “Sam, you could do nothing but read for the rest of your life, and I’d still worry about you getting paper cuts. You’re human. You’re…fragile, in comparison to angels. The people I’ve been with have always been made of sturdier stuff. I just need to get used to you having bruises and scratches. But if you lose that much blood again, I might kill you myself.”

The skin on Sam’s cheeks crinkles a little when he smiles and huffs out a laugh. “I'll try not to,” he says, still smiling. “Promise.”

Gabriel knows that’s the best he’s going to get. He stretches out beside Sam with a sigh, presses as close to his side as he can, and drapes an arm over his back. Sam lets out a small noise of contentment, and his eyes flutter shut, despite his valiant attempts to keep them open. Gabriel keeps a hand in his hair, stroking the soft strands on the back of his neck. He dozes off with Sam, their heads ducked close together, bodies aligned and warm against the other.

Dean pokes his head in, out of habit more than anything else. He smiles when he sees Sam all curled up with his pillow, sprawled out alone in the middle of his bed. He turns out the lights, but leaves the lamp on the nightstand on, and shuts the door.

Had he stayed a minute longer, he might have seen the soft flicker of the bedside lamp, and the gentle drift of a small, golden feather as it came to rest in Sam’s hair.


End file.
